A RIDING LESSON GOES AWRY
Meanwhile, in Rotten Row, Hyde Park, Mayfair
Mounted in a sidesaddle and sitting as straight as she could manage, Lady Dahlia Davida Norwick took up the reins of the bay upon which she sat and was about to use her crop on her right side when Winston, the Norwick House groom, held out a hand and shook his head.
“This one doesn’t require the crop, my lady,” Winston warned. “Not like the mare you rode last week.”
“Oh,” Dahlia replied, wincing when she heard the word come out of her mouth. After the talk they’d had with their mother a few days ago, she and Danielle had begun to tease one another about how often they said the word in response to comments from others. “If not the crop, then how do I make it known I wish for him to move?”
“Your left boot, my lady. Just give it a slight kick inward and the beastie will begin walking. He’ll take verbal commands as well, so if you’d like him to quicken his pace, you can urge him on. Just do be careful. He loves a good run.”
The groom was mounted on the mare Dahlia had ridden to the park, and now they had switched horses so she could have the experience of riding the newest horse in the Norwick stables. The Thoroughbred, Vindication, was muscular but slight in build. He was also older, his time as a race horse long over. Daniel had purchased the bay at the urging of the groom, claiming he would make a good stud and an excellent riding horse. He hadn’t mentioned from whose stables the race horse had originated.
Dahlia grinned in delight as the horse began an easy walk. “Why, he’s got a perfect gait,” she said happily.
“You’ll find he’s a very smooth ride, even when he’s running,” Winston remarked. “I wasn’t planning to run him. Thought it would be too muddy, but the road seems firm enough. If you’d like, you can give him the rein, but you’ll probably end up with mud all over your riding habit,” he warned.
Scoffing, Dahlia said, “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Curious as to who else might be using the King’s Private Road, she glanced around, surprised to find there were no other riders ahead of them and only one well behind them. That morning’s rain had obviously deterred any who might have otherwise ridden at noon, or they were waiting until later in the afternoon for their exercise.
“Does he trot?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. He’s been trained for all manner of riding. Probably even hunting, too,” Winston replied. “Best horse the earl has ever purchased.”
“Do I use the crop to make him run?”
“Won’t need to, not if you allow him to build up his speed,” the groom replied. “Just—”
“Dig my heel in a bit more?”
“Aye.” Winston grinned. His own mount was caught unawares as the Thoroughbred quickened his walk to a trot and then to a run. The groom urged the mare to follow suit, although he knew there was no way he could catch up to Vindication.
Another horse was certainly giving it a go, though. One that seemed to come out of nowhere. Ridden by a gentleman sporting a short top hat and leather riding breeches, the Irish walker intercepted the Thoroughbred just beyond the last turn of the road.
Alarm had Winston digging his heels into the mare. Something was happening, and he was too far back to do anything about it.
